In a gut-wrenching twist that has plunged a tight-knit Gold Coast community into despair, authorities have confirmed the last desperate signal from Ashley Haigh’s emergency beacon came to a sudden, silent stop—drifting lifelessly in the ocean some 25 kilometers off the New South Wales coast, registered unmistakably in the 44-year-old father’s name.

The Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon (EPIRB)—the very device designed to scream for help when all else fails—pinged its final transmission before going dark, recovered inactive and alone on Saturday, February 7, 2026. No body. No life jacket. No further signs of the experienced game fisherman who vanished into the vast, unforgiving sea just days earlier. Police have grimly shifted the massive operation from frantic search-and-rescue to a somber “recovery phase,” signaling the worst fears for Haigh, a beloved husband, father, and renowned marlin hunter known across Queensland’s fishing circles.

It started like any other solo adventure for the Hollywell local. On Thursday, February 5, Haigh—affectionately called “Ash” by friends—slipped out of the Gold Coast’s The Spit just after 6:30 a.m. in his black half-cabin boat, nicknamed The Grey Ghost. He was chasing the thrill of big game fishing in deep waters, heading out for marlin under calm skies that promised nothing but promise. He told mates the night before he’d be back by evening. He never made it.

By around 7 p.m., when the vessel failed to return to Runaway Bay Marina, alarm bells rang. Family and friends raised the alert. Radio checks went unanswered. Water police launched an immediate hunt. Then, in the dead of night at about 2 a.m. Friday, the unthinkable discovery: Haigh’s boat floating unmanned, eerily intact, roughly 46 kilometers (about 25 nautical miles) offshore near Burleigh Heads. No one aboard. One life jacket missing—though authorities couldn’t confirm if Haigh had been wearing it when he disappeared. Fishing gear sparse, with only one rod left behind despite his habit of packing multiples. The vessel appeared “generally in good condition,” but that only deepened the mystery: how does an experienced seafarer vanish from a perfectly seaworthy boat on a routine trip?

What followed was a frantic, multi-agency blitz. Queensland Police, NSW counterparts, marine rescue teams, helicopters, aircraft from the Australian Maritime Safety Authority (AMSA), and up to eight vessels scoured hundreds of square kilometers. Currents pushed the drift zone south, forcing searchers to expand efforts toward Byron Bay, Ballina, Evans Head, and even as far as Yamba. The ocean was searched relentlessly from Point Danger down the coast, day and night, with hope clinging to every wave.

Then came Saturday’s devastating breakthrough—or breakdown. Late that afternoon, rescuers located the inactive EPIRB registered directly to Ashley Haigh. It was bobbing 14 nautical miles (approximately 25-26 kilometers) off Ballina in the Northern Rivers region of New South Wales. The beacon had activated at some point—likely Haigh’s last act in a moment of peril—but then fell silent. No more signals. No strobe light flashing. Just an inert plastic cylinder adrift, a final, futile cry for help that ended far from where his boat was found.

Investigators say the distance is telling. Ocean currents, potentially strong in the region, could have carried the beacon southward over hours or days. But the fact it was inactive raises chilling questions: Was it manually triggered in a desperate bid for rescue before Haigh went into the water? Did it detach accidentally during a fall overboard? Or worse—did something catastrophic happen so suddenly that he never got the chance to keep it transmitting? The EPIRB’s registration under Haigh’s name leaves no doubt: this was his lifeline, and it failed to bring him home.

Friends describe Haigh as a larger-than-life figure in the local fishing scene—skilled, passionate, always ready with a story or a tip on where the big ones bite. Andrew Dunbar, a close mate of 15 years who spoke to him just the night before the trip, expressed the raw devastation gripping the community: shock mixed with disbelief that someone so competent could simply vanish on calm seas.

By Sunday, February 8, with no new leads—no clothing, no debris, no signs of life—the operation transitioned officially. Queensland Police confirmed the shift to recovery mode, vowing to stay in touch with Haigh’s grieving family while acknowledging the harsh reality: the window for a live rescue had slammed shut. The active search was suspended after three grueling days, leaving loved ones to confront a void that no amount of boats or helicopters could fill.

The Gold Coast fishing fraternity reels from the loss. Haigh wasn’t just another boater; he was a staple, a dad who balanced family life with the call of the deep blue. Tributes pour in online and at marinas, where boats fly flags at half-mast and stories of his adventures keep his memory alive. Yet the unanswered questions linger like fog over the water: What happened in those final moments? A rogue wave? A medical emergency? An encounter with the sea’s unforgiving power?

For now, the ocean holds its secrets. Ashley Haigh’s boat drifts as a ghost ship reminder of how quickly paradise can turn perilous. His EPIRB, silent and recovered far from the vessel, stands as the last grim breadcrumb in a trail that ended too soon. A father, husband, and fisherman gone—taken by the same waters he loved so fiercely.

The search may have paused, but for those who knew him, the ache has only just begun.